


when the sea parts

by quoixej



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoixej/pseuds/quoixej
Summary: homura exists. that's all she really does, most days.
Kudos: 14





	when the sea parts

Red. Red is all Homura ever sees these days. The red of blood pulsing out of an aching wound, or the red of Kyoko’s ribbon (the only thing left of her.) Red, the color of the water in her bathtub on most days. Like the fire she lights up to cook ramen on the stove (she can’t help but flinch at the heat), and red, like the roses she keeps in a vase that wilt more and more as the days go on. When she wakes up these days, it’s not because of a nightmare anymore. It’s more out of the ugly thing that creeps inside of her in spite of her mind and tells her to exist. Perhaps not live, she’s lost everything that made her live. But exist? That, she can do. 

Dust builds up in every corner of her apartment, and she doesn’t really care. Of course, every once in a while she’ll inhale a good amount and have a sneezing fit like no other- but she really doesn’t care. It hurts. It really does. 

She sits there. She can only do that right now. Her bones are aching, but most importantly, her heart. It’s a pain she’ll never fully understand, but has become rather familiar with. It’s like a fleeting thought, there one moment but gone the next. Madoka Kaname has truly ruined her, with her sweet smiles and even sweeter promises. 

The light flows in through the window, the sun shines brightly, the city outside bustles, but all that matters is that she doesn’t belong here she doesn’t matter and it hurts. It hurts so much, so, so much. Maybe it was her mistake for being so foolish, for thinking that there was a version of this where they all came out unscathed. Without blood on their hands, without the beautiful, childish innocence still in their eyes. For thinking that maybe, she could save everyone. The power of rewinding time is something she wishes she could lose, for all she can think of is that maybe, just maybe, she could go back again, and save them and the words they told her when they hugged her underneath the covers and whispered about the newest crush they had or the latest gossip at school. It’s a curse, a blessing, it’s something. But all she can think of is Madoka’s sweet smile, Kyoko’s obnoxious (hopeful) voice, Mami’s brightness, and Sayaka’s confidence. When she’s been spit and stepped on one hundred time over, the idea of living without they when her whole life has been about them scares her. 

Maybe she’s foolish for loving them, take it as you will. Love to her doesn’t mean kissing their cheek and holding their hand when they break down. Love is the moment when she looks into their eyes and see the warmth they don’t try to hide from her, and when she feels her back press against their warm chest, and falls asleep to the uneven heartbeat. Call her a fool, call her useless, call her anything - she loves them. More than anything else, she loves them. So much that it hurts. 

And so she let it hurt. The city bustles, the sun shines, the birds chirp, but by all intentions and meaning she is alone, with no one, and she wish she could have them back with her, smiling happily, joking around, Kyoko with her crooked smile, Sayaka and her fiery disposition, Mami and her calming words, and Madoka who-

She cries quietly, never has been one to scream her emotions out loud or wear them on her sleeve. She wishes she was. 

Or rather, she no longer is. She thinks about the girl she used to be in a past life, the type who was innocent and loved and showed it and would give anything to protect everyone she loved. She has changed, for she is a monster now, one who doesn’t care about others, but only her, she believes. She is selfish- and she wants her life back. The one where she wasn’t tied to a wish, where no one was tied to a wish. And maybe, just maybe, if it means that everyone else will be safe, she can sacrifice herself, but there is no way,

Sometimes she sits in her room, complacent. Her worries never melt away, as they seem to do in all the books she reads. She just sits, like an unbloomed flower. Unmoving and sickeningly, (very) complacent. She can’t stand it. And somehow, it’s all she can do. Her death has never been an unfamiliar topic. She knows, working in this line, that one day: her death will be inevitable. She can’t bring herself to care, as what is the point of living without the ones she’s loved so much, if she’s being honest?

She’s always heard all the shit they say: That your loved ones would not want you to suffer, and instead live on. That she’s still living, and should carry on their will. 

She hates it. 

She hates all of their soothing words, as if she’ll ever be calm. She is a temptuos sky on a pouring night, she is a supernova destroying everything in her path. She cares nothing of peace and such, she cares to make those who hurt her suffer. She aims to destroy anything in her way, and that is how she has always lived. Words do nothing to make her complacent, too calm the storm inside her raging soul. The fire in her burns bright, and she will burn. She will burn everything she can. 

And so she sits. The birds chirp. She hears cars outside roaring, the rubber wheels squeaking. Homura can understand the beauty in many things, she really can. But when all that shows up when she blinks is images of Mami’s dismembered head or Madoka lying on the floor bleeding, beauty doesn’t seem to exist anymore. 

It’s night by the time she’s finished wallowing - wonderful, she muses. Tomorrow will be another day, another night. All that matters is that she exists, the least she could do for them.

Tomorrow, she will wake up.


End file.
